"It was a dark and stormy night ..."

For a variety of reasons I'm rarely able to perform with our local Community Players these days, but I do miss "treading the boards" and I always try to support the group's productions. Each December they have a seasonal revue and raise funds for local charities; the event has been running for nearly twenty years now and is a highlight in the Charlton Kings calendar. Last night's was terrific - a full house, an appreciative audience and a great line up of acts.

Once upon a time ...

Whilst I thoroughly enjoyed the music that was played and the poems that were read, it was the stories that really caught my imagination. And they started me thinking of all the people who, over centuries, have sat around on cold winter nights, weaving magic with tales of ghosts and griefs, love and longing, heroism and homesickness. Last night we were sitting in a dark church hall with rain lashing the windows; I don't doubt that our ancestors, probably sitting by fires in caves, predators prowling in the blackness outside, were equally enthralled, moved, frightened and amused by the story-tellers of their time! There's something very special about the tradition of oral story-telling.

Whilst I've been typing this, it's started to snow quite heavily. Again this year my garden has seemed confused by autumn and the onset of winter - I've had primroses out since November and a fine crop of buds on the tree just outside the study window. Winter isn't my favourite season and a bit of a spring preview certainly cheers me along, but I just hope that these premature visitors will survive through the worst of what's to come!